Not That Young
by Misgiving Writer
Summary: Clint is the youngest out of the Avengers and, as such, he has the least amount of experience. When he goes out on a mission with Steve, though, everyone will finally see that he's far stronger than they thought he was.
1. Chapter 1

In the Avengers, there are several duos that are just always there. No discussions. No debates. It was just fact. Tony and Steve went on missions together. Jan went with Hank. Clint with Hulk. And Thor tagged along with whoever needed a third person. That was that.

It wasn't just because those were who got along the best with each other either. It was that, no matter what sort of a mission they were being sent on, that pair worked best together. Anticipating the others moves and working with it. Fighting, not just as a team, but almost as one. Like they knew exactly what was running through their partners head at every given moment.

That's why it was proving to be difficult getting ready for this next mission. Not that Steve really had much time to get dressed and down to the front entrance of the manor, let alone debate on whether being paired up with Clint was really a good idea.

Tony had been busy with a meeting. Uncancellable, he'd told the others. No way to change the time unless they wanted Stark Enterprise to go bankrupt. Hulk just wasn't answering. He did that a lot but, before, it had never really bothered Steve. He'd always figured that whatever the big guy was up to it was probably important. Today, with all of the others already occupied with something of known importance, he was already planning on ways to bring it up to the green goliath that the com-card was something he really should be answering.

Now, don't get him wrong. It wasn't that he didn't like Clint. The marksmen was easy enough for him to get along with, though some of the jokes he cracked were more than a tad annoying. It was just that all of the other members of the Avengers, Hulk included, had more fighting experience than Clint did. The archer was also the youngest on the team and, though Steve tried hard not to think of his team mate as such, the most vulnerable. Which meant that if anything went wrong on this mission, it would all be on Steve's shoulders.

Not a reasuring thought.

Steve ran a hand through his hair, let out a tired sigh as he grabbed his shield, and headed down to the main entrance. Clint was already there, fully dressed in his uniform, leaning against the wall. Arms crossed over his chest, he opened his eyes and straightened up before Steve even had the chance to call his name.

"Ready?" Clint asked.

Steve nodded. "Yes." He paused for a moment, shifting just slightly. For all the confidence he had in his ability to fight, all the new implications of things that had been simple in the past still made it difficult for him to ask his team things. He just never knew what sort of a response he would get. "I planned on taking my motorcycle but-"

"I'll walk." Clint cut him off with a shake of his head. "You take your bike and I'll meet you there. Alright?"

Steve hesitated again. It seemed like it would take Clint an awfully long time to get there by foot. He wasn't given a chance to voice his concern though as the other Avenger had already pulled open the door and dissapeared into the night.

_That_ was another reason that Steve was worried about how this fight would go. As far as he knew, Clint wasn't one for team-work _or_ for thinking things through. He was brash. And being brash was not good for a battle.

Never the less, Steve followed after the archer. His motorcycle was already parked in front of the building. It always was when he didn't get partnered with Tony, though he had never been able to figure out how it got from the basement up to the front driveway each time.

Riding his bike, it only took a short ten minutes to get to the scene of the crime. Which, in this case, happened to be the pier. And the culprit happened to be a large, musceled man clad in a ridiculous yellow pinstripe suit and waving around what Hank had informed him was a gamma gun. There were several wirey men, in matching yellow suits, loading suspicious looking crates into a boat.

Steve pushed the kickstand of his motorcycle down and hunkered into the shadows. He was planning on giving Clint two minutes to show up before he just went out and took down the man, apptley named Canary, on his own. It was only a few moments though before a hand was laid on his shoulder. Steve jerked under the touch and spun around, ready to attack whoever was behind him.

Only to come face to face with a smirking Clint.

"You ready?" The archer questioned, not a single trace of being out of breath in his voice.

Which made almost as little sense as him already being there. Even if, by some miracle, Clint had managed to _run_ to the pier that quickly it should have left him gasping for breath. Not completely ready for a fight. It just...Wasn't feasable.

Steve nodded in answer any ways.

~X~

It had been a surprisingly difficult battle. Not hard enough that the other Avengers needed to be called but certainly a challenge. One that, as always, might have been made easier if S.H.I.E.L.D. ever showed up for more than retrieval duty; which was what several of the lower ranked members of the prestigious military group were currantly doing.

It turned out that Canary could produce a voice so loud, it could crack whatever glass was in the recent vicinity. He also had the annoying gift of being able to talk to birds. And there were a lot of seagulls at the pier. Seagulls that didn't like Clint, evidently, as he was the only one that they went after.

Between those two abilities and the fact that Steve and Clint had never worked together on a solo mission like this, Canary had turned into quite a handful.

In the end of it all, Steve had ended up abandoning the actual fight to go after the ship. The crates that had been loaded onto it were all filled with the same gamma guns that Canary had been wielding; something that had been realized when Clint was slammed into one of the crates. And, even if it meant that Canary got away, Steve refused to just _let_ technology like that spread around in the wrong hands.

So getting that boat stopped, or destroyed as the case had been, was his main priority. Clint, however, had other goals. When Steve got back to the pier, though, instead of the fight still going on or Canary having gotten away, he was met with the sight of the criminal sprawled in an unconscious heap on the wooden planks. Leaning against a few of the unloaded crates near Canary was Clint, battered and bruised.

Steve hadn't gotten the chance to go over and check on him though as, at that moment, S.H.I.E.L.D. had chosen to show up. Clint hadn't done much the entire time that the agents were there, which was slightly worrying. That's why, the moment that the armored van drove off, Steve's first priority was to check on his clearly injured team-mate.

"Clint? Are you okay? You look...More than a little hurt." Steve waved a hand at Clint, his worry coming through his voice loud and clear.

Clint just looked at him, one eyebrow raised in what looked like amusement.

Steve cleared his throat. "I know that you were rather adamant earlier about not taking my motorcycle here but, perhaps, it would be best if you allowed me to give you a ride back to Tony's? I'm not quite sure how you got here but I'm sure that being driven home would be an easier mode of transportation."

Again, Clint stayed silent.

"Of course, if you'd rather not I understand." Steve offered up. Clint looked honestly amused at this point and Steve was starting to think that there really _was_ a double meaning to sharing the same motorcycle.

There were a few more moments of silence before Clint let out a rather loud chuckle. "Cap." His voice was far louder than it needed to be, too. "I can't hear a word you're saying."

Steve blinked, brows furrowing as a frown settled onto his face. "Can't hear?"

That was when he noticed the thin trail of blood running down either side of Clint's head, dripping out of either ear. He reached out and grabbed onto his shoulder in an attempt to lead him over to the motorcycle. That was no way that Steve was letting him walk off like that, whether it was to Tony's or not! "You need to see a doctor, Clint."

"I'm fine." Clint's words were terse despite their volume. Shrugging his shoulders, the archer pulled out of Steve's grip, taking a few steps away. "I'm going home." Then Clint was gone, dissapearing quickly into the shadows of the night.

And perhaps, when it came to battles, the archer wasn't nearly as young as Steve had thought he was. Then again, recklessness had always been a warriors greatest foe.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Wow, I can't believe I managed to get this updated so fast! Hopefully I can get the other chapters up just as quickly.

_Written for the Five Senses Challenge on The Avengers Challenge Forum_.

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><p>There were a lot of things that got on Tony's nerves.<p>

Having a whole cluster of superheroes living in his house. Villains attacking on days that Tony was busy doing something for Stark Industries. The fact that Hulk never seemed to remember that the doors to his house opened automatically. Being Fury's 'lapdog' and having to clean up S.H.I.E.L.D.'s mistakes.

That all bothered him. Actually, it all irritated the man to no end. There were a lot more things that could ruffle Tony's feathers too. But on the top of that list, only below Fury, was Clint. Everything about the other Avenger bothered him. From how he would take off on his own for weeks at a time to how he could never just do what he was told to do.

Today, it was that Clint wasn't getting to Stark Manor at a decent time.

Everyone else had gathered in Tony's living room almost ten minutes ago. It was a good thing that they weren't all being called there for anything important. Like a battle of some sort, which was what the Avengers Comm was typically used for announcing. Otherwise, when Clint _did_ show up, the archer would have been off the team like that.

As it was, Tony didn't plan on waiting for much longer before he just told everyone else. If Clint missed it, and missed out on staying on the team, then it was his own fault. At least, that's what he told himself as he dropped down into one of the black leather armchairs scattered about his almost-too-large living room.

Resting his elbow on the arm of the chair and cupping his chin in his hand, Tony let out an annoyed snort. "He'd better get here soon."

"I'm sure he will, Tony. There is probably a good reason that Clint hasn't gotten here yet. Perhaps he ran into trouble?" Steve suggested. It wasn't likely that was the actual case but one never knew.

Tony just wrinkled his nose up, scowl deepening. "It better have been _big_ trouble for him to be this late."

Steve shrugged. Just as he was about to say something, the door to the room they were sitting in opened and Clint meandered his way in. Dressed in his uniform, which Tony had explicitly stated in the call was not needed, and taking his time crossing through the room.

"What the hell took you so long?" Tony snapped, pushing himself out of the chair and glowering at the other man.

Clint didn't answer right away. When he did, he made it perfectly clear that he wasn't in a good mood. "I was busy. I'm _still_ busy. What do you need me for, Tony?"

Obviously, it wasn't because there was a fight somewhere. The fact that everyone was still in the manor told Clint that. He was late enough that if it _had_ been a fight, everyone would have been long gone by now. Probably taking with them any chance that Clint had of finding them and joining in on the fight, too. The fact that he was the only one wearing a uniform was another obvious give-away.

Normally, Clint would have had a snide remark for Tony about calling them together without a fight going on; even if the others didn't, he had things that needed to get done that day. But the archer kept his lips shut tight, leaned against the wall across from where Tony was standing, and tried to concentrate on what was being said.

"I 'need you' because I'm supposed to give you all a briefing on our wonderful little excursion tomorrow." Tony made sure to pile the sarcasm on thick, just to let the others know that he didn't like it anymore than they were going to. But Fury had already decided it was going to happen and, when that man decided on something, it happened. Even when no one else wanted anything to do with the 'grand idea'.

And this was by far one of Fury's most irritating ideas yet. "S.H.I.E.L.D. has decided that we need to get ourselves known in a more...relatable...light. So Fury's set us each up to be interviewed tomorrow morning, bright and early."

Jan let out a loud groan and slouched down in her chair, both arms crossing over her chest. "_Why_? What's the point of doing that? It's not like anyone will take what we say as the truth!"

That was true. It was also the same point that Tony had brought up in the very first phone call with the leader of S.H.I.E.L.D. almost a week ago. Fury hadn't cared then, still didn't care now, and had made it very clear that he wasn't going to care.

"The point is that Fury isn't going to stop calling me until we do this." Tony said. "I've already gotten two calls from him this morning and I'm not going to deal with that _every day_. So we're doing the interviews."

And that was all Clint was able to get. Tony turned away from him at that point to face Steve, most likely answering some question about what they would have to say in the morning, and that was that.

Normally, the fact that Tony didn't bother to address everyone at the same time wouldn't have bothered Clint in the slightest. It was how their self-proclaimed leader worked; ignoring the members that had gotten on his nerves, and speaking almost directly to Steve and only Steve. And that was fine because everyone else could still hear what was being said.

Except that, this time, Clint couldn't.

The minute that Tony turned away from him, the small connection to what everyone was saying disappeared and Clint found himself trapped once again in nothing but silence. The type of silence that sent shivers down his spine and made his heart clench, simply because it was so horribly and utterly _complete_.

The breath that Clint forced himself to take was ragged and noisy, though he couldn't tell himself. It didn't help to stop the way his heart had begun to hammer in his chest or slow the small trickle of panic that was drifting threw him. But it got Tony's attention; the older man glared at him, said something too quickly for Clint to catch, and then went back to talking to Steve.

And that was how the rest of the 'meeting' went. Tony didn't give Clint another glance through the whole thing, set on ignoring him for not showing up on time, and Clint wasn't able to make out anything else that was said; and it made Clint so beyond furious, because he hadn't actually been _ignoring_ the call, he just hadn't been able to hear it start buzzing.

Abruptly, at least it was to the archer, Jan and Hank both stood up and left the room. Thor moved to follow them out, though he was grinning where Hank hadn't been, but stopped near the door.

"Are you going to join us, Hawkeye?" Thor asked the other Avenger, making a vague gesture to the hall that Hank and Jan had just disappeared down.

Again, Clint's answer was delayed. Matching words to lips without moving his own and trying to say them himself was _difficult_. But he'd be damned if he let the others know what was going on just then. Not when he had just really secured himself a place on the team and didn't really know himself. "I already said I'm busy."

The grin slipped from Thor's face and he tilted his head to the side just slightly. "Are you sure? You are not usually one for missing this."

Clint had to bite his tongue before he asked just what he would be missing. Instead he let out what was probably a too-loud 'yes', resisted the urge to lower his eyes, and shoved past Thor so he could leave first.

~X~

If standing through Tony talk to the other members of the Avengers without actually _hearing_ what was said had been bad, then Clint's walk back to his apartment was beyond horrible. Every little thing made him jerk, from someone bumping into him as they passed him on the sidewalk to watching one of the hundreds of pigeons that lived in the city sing and not hearing the tune.

Clint was caught in a world of silence that left him guessing and double-checking everything. What was normally a fifteen minute stroll turned into a forty five minute paranoia filled walk where nothing made sense.

One moment, Clint would be the only one on the sidewalk, the next he was being jostled around and shoved as people rushed about to get to where ever it was that they were headed. No one bothered to duck around him. They just slammed their shoulders into his, scowled in his direction, and kept right on going.

Cars rushed by, fast and showing no signs of stopping anytime soon, and Clint wasn't able to hear which direction they were coming from. Crossing the street turned into something difficult. Deadly even.

It was all _so strange_. Except that 'strange' wasn't a strong enough word. There didn't seem to _be_ a strong enough word to describe what it was like to suddenly be in a world where there was no sound. Where there was nothing to hint at the going-ons around him or hint at things headed towards him. Where, if he wasn't paying the utmost attention to _everything_ then he could have missed just about _anything_.

By the time Clint finally made it to his apartment, he didn't know if he would be coming out of it again.


End file.
